


Five times you should have noticed that Brad wasn’t human

by amosanguis



Series: creature AUs [6]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 2nd POV - Ray, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Unicorn, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Brad is a unicorn, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, M/M, Trombley is sick of Ray's shit, Yes you read that right, crazy things are happening in the desert, unicorn!Brad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:49:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the one time you (and Nate and Trombley and Poke and Stafford and everyone else [even Scribe]) did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times you should have noticed that Brad wasn’t human

 

  **1.** **The Dog Incident**

 

Trombley swallowed hard, his hand twitching for his gun.

“Just take it easy,” you said, trying to remain calm as your mind raced for all of the possible solutions to this particular situation.

“Fuck,” Trombley cursed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.  Can’t you get this  _fucking_ thing away from me?!”

You looked between Trombley and the wild dog that was inching her way closer and closer, her lips curled up and showing an impressive set of teeth.

“What the hell is going on here?” you jumped at Brad’s voice that was suddenly right behind you.    The dog whirled around and began barking and happily wagging her tail.

“What the fuck?” Trombley asked, on the verge of shouting, as he watched the dog happily bound up to Brad before sitting at the Sergeant’s feet.

Brad didn’t even look up from the dog as he crossed his arms over his chest and, using his best disapproving voice (the same one you’ve been on the receiving end of many, many times) said:

“I said ‘terrorists’,” Brad shook his head, “not ‘Trombleys’.”

The dog whined sadly and lowered her head in shame.  Brad sighed and knelt down so he was eye level with the dog.

“It’s okay,” he said, scratching behind the dog’s ear.  “Just don’t let it happen again.  Now, go find me some  _terrorists_.”

The dog let out a joyful bark and raced out from underneath the Humvee’s cammie netting and out into the wide expanse of desert.

“What, are you the fuckin’ dog whisperer, now, or some shit?” you asked after a few beats of silence.

“Or some shit,” Brad repeated ominously as he took his shovel out of the Humvee and began to dig his Ranger grave.

Trombley didn’t say anything the rest of the night – just crawled into the Humvee, cradling his SAW against his chest that night as he slept.

 

 **2.** **The Water Incident**

 

“Why is your team the only one not getting sick?” Poke groused as he curled up into himself, slowly nursing his bottle of water and trying to simultaneously not throw up or shit his pants.

You shrugged.

“Brad’s made it clear that we’re only supposed to drink the water that he gives us,” you said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, shaking your head; you watched as Brad fiddled with the radio equipment inside the Humvee that was parked a few feet away.  “Maybe so he can spit in it?”

Espera rolls his eyes and curls up tighter around his water bottle.   You stand up, leaving Poke to try to sleep.

You walk over to the Humvee and crawl into the driver’s seat.  Brad looks up, lifts an eyebrow –  ** _What do you want?_  **he asks without ever saying anything.

“How come we’re not getting sick?” you ask before you can stop yourself. 

You hadn’t really noticed until Poke brought it up – but out of all of Bravo, Brad’s team was the only that didn’t have a  _single_  person with the shits.

“Because I get the good water,” Brad answers, going back to looking through his maps and charts.  He continues with an air of obvious boredom tinged with irritation at having to explain himself: “And because I make you guys wash your hands before you eat.”

“I thought it was because you just wanted to spit in our water,” you say, shrugging.

Brad nods, and, completely serious, he turns back to you and looks you dead in the eye.

“I do spit in your water.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

 

 **3.** **The Reservists Incident**

 

It was the fucking reservists that were going to end up killing all of you.  At least, that would be the case if Brad Colbert didn’t kill them all first.  And judging by the look on his face, their deaths were going to be slow and painful.

“I’m so sorry,” the man was shaking so bad that his knees were literally knocking together.  It was simultaneously hilarious and pathetic and you hated that these men were given guns.

Brad waited until after Doc had taken over putting pressure on the side of Nate’s head before he looked over to the man.  Then he stood up.

And everyone jumped backwards and away from the shaking reservist and you watched as Brad closed the distance between them in half-a-second, his fists flying and the man falling underneath him, pinned and screaming for mercy.

Distantly you heard Nate shout his name – but Brad wasn’t stopping.

It was a full thirty seconds before any of you were able to overcome your shock long enough to try to pull Brad away from the other Marine.

It was as you pushed against Brad’s chest, yelling at him to  ** _calm the fuck down, homes_** that you noticed his eyes flashing green and purple and red and yellow – but, the colors were gone when you blinked and your wrote it off as a trick of the sunlight and not enough sleep.

 

 **4.** **The Oryx Incident**

 

“You guys gotta come see this,” Scribe said as he ran up to your Humvee, he bent over and put his hands on his knees.  “There’s this herd of Oryx just over—”

And before he could finish, Brad dropped his MRE and jogged off in the direction Scribe had come from. 

“What the hell, Brad?” you asked as you went after him, following as he scaled the berm.  Once at the top you looked out and saw them.

There had to be at least a hundred Oryx, maybe more.  But it wasn’t the amount of the animals that had all of Recon up on the berm – it was the fact that  _they weren’t doing anything._

At least, until they saw Brad.

That’s when they started snorting and pawing at the ground – a few of them reared up and tossed their heads, pushing against each other in their excitement.  You almost thought that they were going to stampede towards you, but there seemed to be some invisible line they wouldn’t cross.

“Beautiful,” you heard Brad say.  You turned to ask him what the fuck he meant by that; but there was just this look on Brad’s face – something between happiness and pride; and something almost sad.  It made your words stick in your throat. 

And when he saw you staring, he schooled his features and muttered something you didn’t understand before he turned and walked back down the berm.

As soon as he was gone, the Oryx turned and began to run, the thunder of their hooves lasting long after they disappeared from view.

 

 **5.** **The Shadow Incident**

 

It was a few days after the Oryx herd was seen, that you noticed Brad’s shadow wasn’t  _Brad’s shadow_.

Brad was talking to Trombley about religion again as you all prepared to move out, when he just so happened to turn so the sun was at his side, and instead of a long human-shaped shadow – for a split second you thought you saw a horse.

You must’ve made some noise because Brad suddenly stopped talking and looked at you.

“The fuck’s the matter with you, Ray?” he snapped – then he followed your eyes.

But the horse shadow was gone and Brad’s shadow was human again.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” was all you said as you chugged your water and climbed into the driver’s seat.  You’re gripped the steering wheel and pointedly ignored the concerned look on Brad’s face.

“Lay off the fucking Ripped Fuel,” he growled before turning back to Trombley and their conversation.

 

 **+1.** **The Lion Incident**

 

 ** _Fuck, okay_** , you thought to yourself,  ** _maybe there’s something weird about Brad._**

“Just calm down,” Brad was saying to the man who was standing behind you, to the man whose fucking  _claws_  were pressing into the skin of your throat – threatening to rip you open.  “You don’t want to do this.”

“And what would you do, huh?” the man asked; he was some Kuwaiti brought in to help Meesh with the translating – only, as soon as he saw Brad, he had grabbed you and began shouting about how he was going to kill all of Brad’s marines.  “What’s the matter,  _horse_?  Don’t want to be exposed?

“The humans have written you off as myth,” you could hear the sneer in his voice, the venom and hatred, “what do you think they would do if they discovered you again?  How long before the massacres started?  Maybe you’ll finally be wiped off the face of this planet!”

“Your problem is with me,” Brad had both of his hands up, his voice calm and soothing, and you had to bite back your pleas for him to just fucking  _help you_.  “Let him go – no one else needs to get involved.”

“They are all involved!” the man shouted and you choked back a gasp as one of his claws broke the skin, blood trickling down your neck – Brad’s eyes flashed with anger.  “They were involved in this the second you started to love them!

“Besides,” the Kuwaiti’s voice suddenly dropped to a low whisper and you felt his lips on your ear, “do you think they would still care?  Do you think they would try to protect you?”

He made a sweeping gesture with his chin at the numerous guns trained on you and him.  Trombley and Walt, Espera and Lilley and Garza, Stafford and Christeson and Nate and Gunny Wynn, Rudy and Manimal and Pappy – all had their rifles out and trained on target.  You didn’t know if this made you feel more or less protected.

“Do you think they would be doing this if they knew about the hundreds of thousands of lives you’ve taken?  If they knew how many cubs were trampled under your hooves? What do you think—”

“Fuck you!” Brad is suddenly shouting. “I have never killed a child!  It goes against everything I am!  But, you,  _lion_ ,” there’s spittle flying from his lips as his rage pours from him and he’s suddenly too big and he’s right in front of you and there’s this heat just coming off of him and he’s  _screaming_ , “I’ve seen your kind rip mares apart as they foal!  You’re nothing but  _cowards_!  You hide behind the humans, using their sons and daughters as shields – too frightened to face any of us on your own!”

“So do something about it,” the man says; and there’s no hint of sanity in his voice and for a second you’re afraid that Brad is going to kill the both of you.  “Let them know what you are – come out of the shadows and let’s see what happens!  But can you do it before I kill your friend here?”

The grip on your throat tightens and suddenly you can’t breathe and you’re choking.

But then Brad becomes a blur of motion and the claws are suddenly gone from your neck and you’re on the ground.  Then, then there’s a roar and there are fangs and claws ripping through your MOPP suit.

There’s lion on top of you, tearing away at your clothes, and somewhere far off you hear the shrill scream of a horse.

But what attacks the lion isn’t a horse.

It’s a  _unicorn_.

It’s  _Brad_.

And Brad the Unicorn has just rolled the lion onto the lion’s back before rearing up and bringing his hooves down on the lion’s side – you hear the distinct shattering of ribs.  And just as the lion tries to get up, Brad is rearing again – only when he comes down, he keeps his hooves tucked under him and, lowering his head at the last second, he buries his horn deep into the lion’s chest.  And in his last throes, the lion buries his claws deep in Brad’s neck, trying to rip away what he can – but soon he’s motionless.

There’s a moment then, where no one breathes – even the wind has stopped and it seems like the entire world is still.

Then slowly, Brad stands, pulling his horn out of the lion – the lion’s blood dripping down and rolling into his eyes, into his nostrils and his mouth.  And the entire time, you’re just staring at each other and you notice how Brad’s eyes flash and flicker and fade between blue and green and red and purple and yellow.

“Brad?” you hate the almost-whimper in your voice, but  _fuck_.  And distantly you feel pain – sharp and dull and just on the edge of your consciousness.

And then Brad’s body is changing and the shift from unicorn to human again is seamless and you almost miss it. 

Brad rushes to you and he spreads a hand out on your chest – your chest that’s been torn to shreds – and then you’re filled with warmth.

“What the fuck--?” some irrational part of your brain is screaming for you to  ** _get away_** , but Brad just presses down harder.

“Shut up, Ray,” he says –the words are automatic and without heat.

And that’s when you notice that your wounds are healing.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone behind you say.  You had almost forgotten about the rest of Bravo; you absently wonder if they’re still pointing their guns at you and Brad.

When Brad removes his hand, he smiles down at you softly and his eyes are still sparking and shifting with all these different colors and you’d’ve been so utterly lost in them if Brad hadn’t suddenly rolled over and passed out.

Doc runs over then and he’s doing his best to tend to Brad’s own wounds.

“It’s just blood loss,” he says, carefully wrapping Brad’s neck after he sterilizes the gashes and clears away as much blood as he can.

“Should we even CasEvac him?” Trombley asks, voice hesitant.

“Absolutely the  _fuck_  not,” Nate almost growls; you look up and you see the fierce protectiveness in Nate’s eyes before he turns to look at everyone.  “I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you this, but I’m going to say it any way just to be absolutely fucking clear: if anyone breathes a word of this  _ever_  to anyone not here right now, I will fuck your shit up.”

Nate stares for a long time at Scribe who just nods emphatically.

And when Brad wakes up, hidden deep in the back of Nate’s Humvee, you resist the urge to punch him in the face.  Instead, you lay down next him, bury your nose in his neck.

“You ever get that hurt again and I’ll kill you,” you whisper.

Brad just chuckles and presses a kiss to the side of your helmet.

You don’t see Christeson passing Stafford his pop tarts with a pained groan.

 

-z-

 

End


End file.
